


No Place for a Revolutionary

by Sarahbob



Category: Les Misérables (2012), Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: Caretaking, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Family, Friendship, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Psychological Trauma, Rape/Non-con Elements, Self Confidence Issues, Self-Harm, Slash if you squint, close friendships
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-08-16
Updated: 2013-11-08
Packaged: 2017-12-23 16:21:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,935
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/928602
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sarahbob/pseuds/Sarahbob
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Enjolras is convinced even the people in the darkest corners of Paris should know about the revolution. His friends warned him not to go there alone and he is going to find out why. Will the Amis be able to glue him back together when he falls apart? (Features Enjolras, the Amis and a little bit of Valjean)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This story has already been posted on fanfiction.net, but I've decided to revise every chapter and then post it on here as well. Although there are dark themes involved, it won't get too explicit. I really hope you'll like this one.

They told him not to go there. Not in that part of Paris. Not alone. But of course, Enjolras did not listen. Convinced that even in the darkest corners of the city, people needed to hear about the revolution, he had dismissed his friends' objections. Or rather, he had promised them he wouldn't go there. And yet, here he was, stack of pamphlets in his hand, walking firmly through the streets that grew darker with every step that he took.

 _It's the middle of the day, what could possibly happy? They are all just overreacting. These people have just as much right to hear about our plans as those living in the better parts of Paris,_ he thought to himself. He knew what he was trying to do. The second he had walked into that alley, he was starting to wonder if maybe his friends had been right. But he was trying to convince himself of his own reasoning and his own arguments. Because what was he doing here if he was starting to doubt himself? No, he would just pull through and ignore that feeling of discomfort that crept up on him the minute the streets grew emptier and the atmosphere murkier.

Not many people were inclined to listen to what he had to say. They were moving fast; with their eyes cast down. As if they tried to make their way back home as soon as possible without any form of delay that could be avoided. But the young revolutionary made sure that the few people he _did_ encounter, got themselves a pamphlet and heard at least some of his encouraging words. "We give demonstrations every week and we meet every day at Café Musain", Enjolras told them, hoping to get himself some new recruits.

But even he could see that this was going nowhere. He might as well have thrown his pamphlets on the streets and wait for those few curious people to pick them up. He’d probably been just as successful in that case. So when Enjolras felt his frustration and desperation grow after only little more than an hour, he let out an exasperated sigh and decided to just give up. There were only a few people pretending to show him any interest; most of them, however, seemed afraid and hurried on their way as quick as they could.

With a disappointed sigh, he turned around and started on his journey back to the Café; where his friends would be waiting. He wasn’t going to tell them about his failed mission. Not only would they be mad that he went out there in the first place; they would be shocked to hear that he lied to them. Especially Combeferre. He never lied to Combeferre and he almost never did anything his best friend was so strongly opposed to. He should’ve just listened to them. He knew that now.  
  
Halfway his journey home, Enjolras got the uneasy feeling that he was being followed, but every time he turned around to check; he found the alley dark and empty. There was no one. Or at least; there appeared to be no one. Still, Enjolras didn’t fully trust it all, so he kept a firm hand on his knife. Just in case. He rolled his eyes as he did so. _Stop being this paranoid_ , he told himself sternly, _Nothing is going on. Just keep walking. Just get back to your friends._

He stopped dead in his tracks a few minutes later, when he heard someone making kissing noises right behind him. Enjolras turned around so fast, he felt his vision tilt a little. Before he could focus again, he was met with a solid, iron fist smashing his jaw. Shocked, Enjolras stumbled a few feet back. He was blinking rapidly; willing the stars he saw away. Experienced fighter though as he was, he got a hold on himself and was prepared for the second punch his attacker tried to throw at him. He ducked aside, grabbed his knife and slashed it along the stranger’s shoulder.

The man growled in pain, but then chuckled darkly. "Pretty boy knows his moves", he purred mockingly.

Enjolras was breathing heavily and kept his distance from the man. “Stay away from me”, he said while raising his knife again. He didn’t sound nearly as convincing as he had hoped and he was sure the shock in his eyes was visible for everyone to see.

The man only grinned an evil grin and lunged forward again. Enjolras did his best to block his movement again, but the minute he did so, someone yanked both of his arms back with great force. He couldn’t help but letting out a loud, surprised and pained gasp. Enjolras tried to fight his second attacker with all his might; he struggled as best as he could, but it was no use. The man holding him was much stronger and didn't loosen his grip. The other man – who had done nothing but grin smugly as he watched Enjolras twist in his accomplices arms - walked right up to him; his face only inches from Enjolras'. "What is a pretty boy such as yourself doing here?", he asked. “Don’t get me wrong; I am greatly pleased to lay my eyes on such...hmm pure delight such as yourself...It’s just...you don’t seem like you belong here...at all.”

Enjolras only looked right at him and refused to avert his eyes. Inside his mind was racing and his heart was beating frantically, but from the outside, he kept a stoic expressing and didn’t say anything. Enjolras gritted his teeth as he felt how the pamphlets were roughly yanked out of his hands, slicing through his skin in the process, and he winced slightly.  
  
“Well, well, well...we’ve got ourselves a little revolutionary, Antoine”, the man chuckled mockingly. “A fighter for the people! A strider towards a better future...I can imagine they would want to listen to you...It’s a pleasure in itself to see that perfect mouth of yours move...”

"Yes...you’re a fiery little lad, aren't you?", the man behind him - Antoine apparently - breathed in his ear.

"Well, monsieur _'I fight for the people_ ', you just got yourself in all kinds of trouble."

Enjolras just kept looking at the man in front of him. He refused to show any sign of fear, even though it was getting harder to breathe. He tried his best to come up with some sort of escape, but he failed miserably. He was starting to panic and he cursed himself for not listening to his friends. The arms of the man behind him felt like lead and he knew he wasn’t going to be able to pry himself loose.

"Cat caught your tongue, pretty boy? Or do you not deem us worthy to talk to? Are we too much of a lowlife for you? You and your clean hair, wealthy clothes...perfect posture..." He felt a hand stroke his hair and he could almost taste the foul smell the man was producing.

When the man reached out and pressed his body flat against Enjolras', he lost his temper however. This wasn’t going to happen. He wouldn’t let it happen. "Get the hell away from me if you know what's good for you, you disgusting street rat!", he snapped.

"Oh my, he has got a dirty mouth Louis, this is going to be fun!", Antoine laughed.

The man in front of him, Louis, didn't back off, but only pressed against him harder, caressing his body with his hands. Enjolras breathing sped up, his was heart beating so loud he was surprised the man couldn't hear it. _No, no, no...this can’t be happening,_ he thought.

When a hand slipped under his vest, he closed his eyes in disgust and desperately tried to kick the man away with his legs, but it was no use. They were both too strong, and even though Enjolras could put up quite the fight himself, he clearly was no match for them both.

"We are going to enjoy this, pretty boy. Take all the time we need."

Enjolras remained quiet, but kept struggling. He refused to make this easy for them. He wasn’t going down without a fight; he wouldn’t. But as soon as they had rid him of his vest and shirt and had him pressed up against the wall, his mind seemed to really comprehend what was about to happen. And his mask completely faltered.

"Don't do this. Please, you don't want to do this...please, don’t?", he whispered brokenly; voice trembling and fear now evident in his eyes. _Was he begging them? Had they actually reduced him to begging?_

"Oh, but I really think we do want to do this", one of them purred against his ear, “You are not our first one, you know, but you are definitely the prettiest one we’ve ever had.”

Enjolras felt himself shake with fear and he hated himself for it. He let out an involuntary sob when Louis’ hand travelled down and roughly palmed him through his pants. _No, no, no, please...please let someone find me?_ Enjolras never really was a religious man, but right now, he was praying to anyone who would listen for someone to come and save him.

Just as Antoine started to pull down his trousers he heard someone shout and there were footsteps approaching. Fast. "Hey! Hey, what the hell's going on over here? What do you think you’re doing? Let the boy go, right now!"

Both Louis and Antoine looked up in shock; more than a little surprised by this sudden interruption in a place as this. No one had ever dared to come between them and their pray and they both didn’t like that it was happening now. The interruption caused them to loosen their grip on Enjolras and the young revolutionary did not need to think twice. He took his chance and started fighting with all his might to get free; successfully slamming his elbow one of the men’s ribs.

Everything happened very fast after that. The unknown man had joined the fight and pulled Louis and Antoine away from him. He was strong; stronger than any man Enjolras had ever seen. His attackers were no match for his rescuer and they were soon backing away. They threw Enjolras one last dark, lustful look before they ran off into the dark, leaving Enjolras alone with his saviour.

The unknown man turned around to face Enjolras. He wasn’t even tired from the fight; his breathing was still even and his clothing only slightly messed up. Enjolras was still trembling violently and he tried to get a grip on what the hell had happened just now. How close he had come to being...violated; how frightened he had been...and still was. His heart was beating so loud and fast, Enjolras had to sit down for a moment to catch his breath.

"Are you hurt?", the man asked worriedly.

Enjolras looked up, stood and backed away slowly. He did not know this man. What if he was just like the other two? _What if he only saved me to have me for himself?_

"You do not have to fear me boy, I am not going to hurt you", the man said in a kind and gentle voice. "My name is monsieur Fauchelevent."

Enjolras didn't say anything, he was still in too much of a shock. His eyes still wide and fearful, trained on this ‘monsieur Fauchelevent’ in case he was going to make a move on him.

Mr. Fauchelevent didn’t do anything however. He only offered Enjolras a friendly smile and ducked down to pick up Enjolras’ vest and shirt. When he handed them over, Enjolras felt himself turn a bright shade of red and he snatched the clothes away from the man; dressing himself as fast as he could.

"What were you doing in a place like this?", Mr. Fauchelevent asked quietly; genuine concern evident in his voice and on his face. “This is no place one would and should come willingly...”

Enjolras opened his mouth, but found himself still unable to find any words; or produce any sound. He didn't need to, however, since Mr. Fauchelevent looked down and noticed all the pamphlets spread on the street. He just nodded and looked up again, a compassionate, but understanding look in his eyes.

"Thank you monsieur", Enjolras finally managed to say, his voice a hoarse whisper. He tried to collect himself again and breathed in deeply a few times. “Thank you for...”. He trailed off. He was too ashamed and felt too embarrassed to finish his sentence.

"Are you hurt?", the man asked again; a soothing smile still decorating his face.

Enjolras shook his head. "I'm fine", he answered quietly.

Mr. Fauchelevent's look turned sceptical, his eyes filled with disbelieve, something not all that different from Combeferre's look whenever he doubted Enjolras' wellbeing. And somehow, Enjolras immediately found himself trusting the man in front of him.

Mr. Fauchelevent pursed his lips for a second and then sighed and nodded. "What is your name, if I may ask?"

"Enjolras", the younger one answered honestly and he was surprised to see recognition in Fauchelevent’s eyes. He surely had never seen him before... Or perhaps he had? Maybe this man had been present at one of his protests?

"Well monsieur Enjolras, I think it would be best to get out of here", Fauchelevent said kindly. “I’d figure you want to get back to your friends?”

Enjolras nodded. He wanted to get away from this particular place of Paris as soon as possible. His eyes darted around the streets, still feeling quite uncomfortable and not really looking forward to making his way back by himself. He did not, however, consider asking the stranger to accompany him. He felt too proud – and too embarrassed – to do so.

Mr. Fauchelevent eyed Enjolras doubtingly. He saw the internal struggle of the boy in front of him. He was obviously scared out of his mind after what had happened to him only minutes ago; after what could have happened if he hadn’t showed up. But on the other hand it was clear to Fauchelevent that he was dealing with an independent, proud young man; reluctant to show any weakness or ask for any help. Being not too unfamiliar with the feeling himself, Fauchelevent decided to make it easier for Enjolras.

"Do you want me to accompany you?", he asked gently.

Enjolras looked up at him and then back at the streets. "No sir, that won’t be necessary, I can manage my way back", he said shakily, although the doubt and hesitation could easily be heard.

"I have no doubt you can, but I am headed that way anyway and I would feel more comfortable to guide you back to safer places myself", Fauchelevent smiled friendly at the blond boy, for that was all he still was, a boy. Maybe just a few years older than his daughter.

Enjolras didn't say anything but instead just nodded shortly. Inside he couldn't feel more relieved.

They did not speak during their journey back. Enjolras was too preoccupied with thinking over what had happened. He felt ashamed and uncertain of himself. And above all he felt stupid. Because that was what he had been. He should have listened to his friends. None of this would’ve happened if he had.

Mr. Fauchelevent stayed silent as well; he knew better than to press the boy with questions.

As soon as they arrived at the Café, another boy came running towards them. Dark curls bouncing up and down; with a smile as bright and broad as that of a child in a candy shop.

"Enjolras! There you are! Where the hell have you been!? What happened?", he called out concernedly, noticing the bruises and his friend’s pale face.

Enjolras seemed to have completely hid behind a mask of marble again. "I'm fine Courfeyrac, don't worry", he smiled, "This here is just a result of my own clumsiness. I tripped, that's all."

He felt Mr. Fauchelevents look of disbelief burn in his back and prayed he would stay silent.

Courfeyrac couln't help but laugh. "You? Clumsy? I don't believe it!" he exclaimed, putting his arm around Enjolras' shoulders. “Seriously, what happened man? You’re late for the meeting; you’re never late!”

Enjolras couldn't help but flinch at the sudden contact, but only Mr. Fauchelevent seemed to notice. He turned around and looked at Mr. Fauchelevent. "Thank you monsieur, for your help..." He watched the man a second longer, silently nodding his gratitude again and then disappeared with Courfeyrac inside the Café.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's the next chapter. Hope you'll like it.

Enjolras quietly followed Courfeyrac into the Café. His mind was racing. He still couldn’t really grasp what the hell had just happened to him. He took a few deep breaths before he climbed up the stairs to the backroom of the Musain, where everyone would be waiting for him. He knew he was far too late; he knew there were going to be questions. Questions that needed answers. Answers he didn’t want to give.

He was still trembling when he reached the top of the stairs and he forced himself to calm down. He had to calm down, because otherwise, his friends were going to know something was wrong. And they couldn’t know. They could never know. _Nothing happened,_ Enjolras kept telling himself. _Stop panicking and just act normal. Nothing happened._

* * *

  
"Look who I found just outside the Café", Courfeyrac called loudly as soon as they arrived upstairs. Enjolras couldn’t help but flinch a little at the sudden loud words spoken so close by. _Am I going to jump at everything now? Be normal; think of something to tell them. Because, really, nothing happened._

All the Amis gathered there looked up. They had been worried; that much was obvious. Combeferre let out an audible, relieved sigh and Bahorel happily patted him on the back. He could hear them whispering under their breaths however. Whispers of where he had been; what had happened; why did he look so haggard? Enjolras decided to put up a straight face as best as he could. Act as if nothing was out of the ordinary. He faked a smile and held up both of his hands.

"I know, I know, I'm late", he said regrettably and he waved Jehan’s helping hand away, "I lost track of time and then I tripped over my own two feet in my haste to get here. I’m sorry I kept you all waiting."

There was silence for a moment. Enjolras looked around the room and carefully met a few eyes. They didn’t look all that convinced…Then someone at his right snorted mockingly. He turned around to face Bahorel, who was watching him with an amused expression on his face. Enjolras narrowed his eyes. "What's so funny?", he asked; slightly annoyed by the fact that his words weren’t immediately believed by all his friends.

Bahorel shrugged and pointed at the bruise on Enjolras’ jaw. "No offense mon Ami, but you are not telling me that there like was caused by you tripping over your own feet", he said indifferently and he shook his head. "I know my business and that ugly thing you got right there is clearly the result of your face meeting a fist, a solid one, by the looks of it."

Enjolras blinked owlishly at Bahorel; momentarily at a loss for words. Now what? What was he going to say? His mind was spinning. _They cannot know, they cannot find out. Think of something; anything”._ But nothing came to mind and Enjolras felt how his heart was beating faster and faster and his breathing turned into shallow panting. He was panicking. _Think of something._

As soon as Bahorel told him it was obvious he was hit, all of the Amis were all over him. He was flooded with concerned questions and Combeferre did his best to pierce Enjolras’ mind with his omniscient eyes. "Is that true Enjolras? Were you hit? Did someone did this to you? Were you robbed? What happened?" Question after question was fired at him and all Enjolras could think of at that point was to laugh. He couldn’t help it; he just started laughing.

"Alright, alright", he chuckled as he did his best to hide all fear and uncertainty from his face, "You, my friend, know too much of this specific area. Fine, it's true, I got punched in the face. I just didn't want to tell you, because I knew you would immediately worry like you are doing now and I can promise you that there really is no need for that."

"Well, I think that's for us to decide now, don't you think Enjolras?", Combeferre stated; calm and friendly as ever but with a stern look in his eyes, "Go on, start talking."

Enjolras let out an exasperated sigh. _Why couldn’t they just leave him be?_ He had a story ready; one he just came up with; a weak one though, even he had to admit it. It would be a surprise to him if his friends would actually buy it. But he had no choice but to tell it anyway. As long as he brought it as convincingly as possible, maybe his friends would back off and he could start forgetting what had really happened that night. Because he wanted to forget. He needed to forget. _Nothing happened_.

He carded a slightly trembling hand through his tousled curls and cleared his throat. "I was on my way here earlier tonight when I heard a woman call for help", he began calmly, "I couldn’t just ignore a woman’s call for help now can I? So I followed her voice and it brought me to this dark alleyway where a young woman was pressed against the wall and two men were obviously trying to assault her. When I tried to help her one of her attackers hit me in the face. That is all that happened, and it really isn’t that bad. The woman was able to get away, so…”. When he thought about it, his fake story came dangerously close to the actual truth. Enjolras shrugged his shoulders as if that explained everything and he was off the hook.

But when he looked around the room, his friends still looked skeptical. Some of them frowned, others had an incredulous smile on their face. Combeferre was looking at him with this compassionate look in his eyes as if he knew exactly that what Enjolras had told them wasn’t true at all. Enjolras forced himself to stay calm from the outside, but on the inside he was starting to panic again. _Come on, come on. Give me a break already_ , he thought.

"Why couldn't you just say that right away? Why tell us that other story in the first place? ", Joly asked quietly, still not entirely convinced by Enjolras’ story.

"Because, I know how you all get”, Enjolras said in a slightly frustrated voice. “You worry all the time. I can only have as little as a cough and you are all over me as if I’m suddenly a child that can’t care for himself. I could only imagine how you would react if I told you I got into a fight…I’d rather save myself all the unnecessary concern.”

"And the man?", Courfeyrac suddenly remembered, "The one who was with you when you arrived at the Café?"

Enjolras frowned; momentarily confused. Then he cursed himself softly. How could he forget to mention Mr. Fauchelevent in his story? Why would he be so stupid; he knew Courfeyrac had seen the man. He swallowed nervously and cleared his throat again. "He joined me in the fight a little later on", Enjolras replied, “I guess he heard her yelling as well…”

Out of the corner of his eye, Enjolras could see Combeferre and Courfeyrac exchange a look and it angered him a little. Why wouldn’t they believe him? It was a plausible story, wasn’t it? He narrowed his eyes at them and shrugged one shoulder. “Whatever, think what you want to think. I don’t really care, because we have more important things to do. Now can we please proceed with our meeting?” He tore his eyes away from his two best friends and refused to look at them again.

"Proceed?", Feuilly laughed, "We still need to begin! We were all waiting for you to show up, remember? You told us last week that you had an important speech prepared? One that would really inspire the people?"

 _Damnit_. He had completely forgotten about his speech. Apart from that, Enjolras really did not feel like leading the meeting right now. His mind was all over the place; he couldn’t concentrate. He seriously doubted if he could get out anything meaningful on their cause tonight. But he knew he didn’t have a choice. If he refused to do the speech, his friends would suspect something was up and Enjolras really needed them to lay off with the questions. It was already frustrating enough that neither Combeferre nor Courfeyrac seemed to buy his story.

"Right, right…you’re right Feuilly", Enjolras mumbled quietly and he climbed on top of a table, "That's what I meant."

* * *

  
All in all, the speech went surprisingly well. Enjolras didn’t really spoke of anything new; he just dived into his previous speeches and plans he knew so well; improvised here and there and made something new out of it. Speaking of those things he cared so much about seemed to calm his own nerves a little and helped to take his mind off the events of earlier that evening. On top of that, his passionate talk also got the complete attention of all of the Amis; they were no longer busying themselves with Enjolras’ story. And for that, the young blond revolutionary was happy.

When he was done, Enjolras sighed his relief and made himself comfortable in the corner of the room. He usually did that after the formal part of a meeting was over, so his friends didn’t think anything of it. He pulled out his notes and pretended to be working on his studies. Pretending was all it was, however. His mind kept racing back to those moments in the alley. He could still smell the men’s breath; he could still feel their touches roaming over his body; he could still feel them stroking his hair, kissing his skin. He could still hear their words and it left him extremely on edge.

Enjolras closed his eyes in disgust and felt his heartbeat and his breathing speed up again. _Stop it. Don’t do this to yourself. Nothing happened. Nothing happened. Don’t think about it. Just forget it._ He all but jumped when he suddenly felt a hand on his shoulder and he couldn't help but gasp in shock. When he turned around in his chair, he was met with the concerned eyes of his closest friend.

Combeferre frowned worriedly and held up both his hands in some sort of surrender. “Relax, Enjolras, it’s just me”, he said quietly and with a small smile. “How come you are so jumpy all the time?”

Enjolras breathed in deeply through his nose, shook his head and smiled at his friend. "Nothing 'Ferre, I was just really deep in thought. You know, I have an important paper coming up, I need to do well. The teachers already aren't too fond of me. So I’d really appreciate it if you could let me work for another few hours or so. We can talk later, I promise."

“Hmm”, Combeferre said as he raised his eyebrows and looked pointedly at the piece of paper in front of his friend. "You've been sitting here for almost an hour now and yet you haven't put a single word on paper? What is really going on, Julien?"

Enjolras felt himself redden a little and he scowled at Combeferre in a poor attempt to hide his embarrassment. "I told you what was going on, Combeferre. Stop bothering me and mind your own business.”

"Right", Combeferre nodded and he took a seat next to his blonde friend.

"Stop looking at me like that 'Ferre, I'm fine", Enjolras mumbled annoyed. He picked up his pencil and started to write furiously as if to prove his point that he really was busy. “Are you just going to sit here watching me work for the rest of the night now?”

"No", the medical student answered kindly. "I was just going to ask you if I could get you anything, something to drink or eat maybe I know you haven’t eaten diner."

"Thank you Combeferre, but I'm good. I just want to work."

Combeferre watched his friend a little while longer. "Fine", he mumbled dejectedly. If Enjolras didn’t want to talk to him, then he wasn’t going to force him. He stood from his chair and walked towards Joly and Courfeyrac. He did, however, keep a close eye on his leader and brother in everything but blood. Something was up. He knew Enjolras better than the blond knew himself and something was obviously going on. And Combeferre didn’t like it one bit.

His surmises were confirmed when Grantaire walked up to Enjolras only a little while later. The cynical drunkard was out to annoy his leader and the perfect way to do just that – or so Grantaire thought - was to approach Enjolras from behind and wrap him into a tight bear hug.  No one would have ever expected the reaction that came from Enjolras however. Usually the blond would be annoyed by Grantaire. He would scowl and chastise; he would get angry and yell; and in some very rare cases he would laugh a bit and return the hug before sending his drunk friend away again. None of those things happened now.

As soon as Grantaire threw his arms around Enjolras, the young one’s eyes flew open in utter shock. Enjolras went completely rigid for a few seconds and then started struggling with all his might, yelling in panic. "Get the hell away from me! Don't touch me!" He flashed back to the alleyway. A body was pressed against his; hands were pulling at his clothes; someone touching him in places no man should ever be touched unwillingly. "Get the hell off!", he shouted in fear.

Grantaire stumbled backwards in shock and he looked at Enjolras incredulously. The whole Café went silent. Everyone was looking at their leader, who was now breathing fast and turned a bright shade of red. They watched him bolt out of the room, mumbling a silent and embarrassed apology as he went down the stairs and out of the Café. Grantaire, more than a little shocked, stumbled backwards, looking at Enjolras with a confused look. The whole café went silent, everyone looking at their leader, who was now breathing fast and turned a bright shade of red before mumbling he had to go and he all but ran down the stairs and out the Café.

"What the hell just happened?", Courfeyrac called out in in shock. All friends looked at each other in shock. Grantaire looked like he was about to cry. He was used to Enjolras being frustrated with him, or angry. They were known for their heated discussions, but never before had his Apollo blown up in his face like this.

* * *

In the meantime, Enjolras cursed himself as he ran down the streets towards his apartment. _Stupid, stupid, stupid. Now you've done it._ He felt tears prickle behind his eyes; his whole body was shaking again and he wanted nothing more than to collapse and forget about everything. _Why did this have to happen? Why couldn’t I defend myself?_

As soon as he got back to his rooms, he slammed the door shut and locked it with trembling hands. He collapsed on his bed and buried his head in the pillow. After no more than half an hour, he could hear someone knocking on his door. He recognized Combeferre’s voice; pleading with him to open up the door, but Enjolras ignored him and didn’t move from his spot on the bed. He couldn’t face Combeferre now. He couldn’t face anyone.

He lay silent on his side and wished that everyone would just leave him alone. The shame was too overwhelming. When Combeferre had finally given up his attempts to convince Enjolras to let him in, the young blond fell into a restless sleep. One last thought plagued his mind before all went dark. _How am I ever going to face them now_?


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a little shorter than the others.

Enjolras woke up very early the next morning. It was still dark outside and the city was asleep. He lay on his back; with his eyes wide open looking at the ceiling. His thoughts ran back to that dreadful moment in the alley and the unfortunate event at the Café it resulted into.

He felt so, so ashamed. There was just no excuse for the way he had reacted. It had been completely unnecessary. _Nothing happened_ , he kept telling himself. _Nothing happened that evening so why did I have to go and embarrass myself like that_?

And the looks. The looks his Amis had thrown his way. Shock, confusion, anger, pity? He kept seeing Grantaire's depressed expression whenever he closed his eyes. Enjolras closed his eyes for a moment and took a deep breath. His hands turned into fists at his side. They were going to want to know what was going on. They were going to expect an explanation for his sudden outburst yesterday. _They cannot know. They cannot know, because nothing happened._

"You have to get this under control Enjolras", he whispered to himself. "It's the only thing you can do. Get it under control, don't think about it, and forget it ever happened." _It never happened_.

But that was easier said than done. Combeferre had already followed him home. He knew something was wrong. Combeferre always knew when something was wrong. He had been knocking on Enjolras’ door for at least two hours straight; calling Enjolras’ name and pleading for him to open up.  Enjolras hadn't answered him once; he had completely ignored his oldest friend until he had given up and left.

 _What am I supposed to do now_? He couldn't hide in his room forever. His friends would definitely know something was up then and he wouldn't be able to have them believe some easy found, simple explanation. No, he had to go out and face them, even though at this point it was one of the hardest things he thought possible. Should he just pretend nothing was wrong? Act like everything was okay? Tell them that he was just really piqued yesterday and he that really could not handle all the cheerfulness of the night? If he openly apologized to Grantaire - something he had to do anyway - they might believe him sooner.

Yes, he would just have to face them. Wave what happened the night before in the café away as if it was nothing special. Apologize for it and move on as if all was well. He just had to stop thinking about that alleyway, because really _nothing happened_. _Get it under control, keep it under control and forget about it._ He kept playing that same mantra in his head over and over again.

He was supposed to give a speech later today together with Courfeyrac. Some of the other Amis would be there as well, handing out folders, looking out for new recruits. But Enjolras knew he had to face his friends before that. He had to convince them first that yesterday was just a mistake and that he was fine. And then he could go on like he always had.

He took another deep breath and tried to calm his racing heart. He was still really tired and he knew it would be best if he’d just go back to sleep for another few hours. He let out a deep sigh, turned on his side and closed his eyes. Enjolras was asleep within minutes.

* * *

 

_He was running. Running away from them. He had only just escaped, but they weren't going to let him go so easily. It was dark, so dark, he couldn't see anything. He only knew he had to keep running, never stop, because if you stop, they'll catch you. But no matter how hard he tried, it didn't work, because suddenly, he couldn’t move his feet anymore. He was glued to the spot and he couldn’t go on any longer. His attackers got closer and closer, he wasn’t able to escape them._

_No, no, no, he thought. He looked around and saw Antoine and Louis, closing in on him. He started panicking. He had to get out of there, he had to! Come on, come on, keep running!_

_Then he felt them. Felt their hands, smelled their breaths, heard them purr and moan. He couldn't get out of their grip, he couldn’t move at all and he knew they would be able to do whatever they wanted to do with him. They undressed him, kissed him, caressed him, tasted him, pressed against him._

_He was close to crying now, begging them, begging them to stop, but they wouldn't listen. The tears had come, streaming down his face when Antoine turned him around and shoved him harshly against the wall. It would happen now, this would mean the end of him as he was._

At the first thrust Enjolras' eyes shot open. He was panting, drenched in sweat, heart beating painfully in his chest. He sat up and pulled the soaked covers away from him. His whole body was trembling. _It was a dream. Only a dream._ He could have cried tears of relief right then and there.

His eyes shifted to the clock on the wall. It was only seven o’clock in the morning. He had slept two hours since he the last time he woke up. There was no way he was going to sleep any more. Even though he felt completely drained. The adrenaline of the nightmare slowly ebbed away and left him a broken, shaky mess.

 _They're still out there._ The thought hit him like a brick wall. He hadn't thought about that at all. They were still out there; they knew how he looked; who he was; they had the pamphlets! Enjolras started to panic all over again. He let his head fall in his hands and tried to remain calm. _Stop it Enjolras, you have to stop this. Get it under control, get a grip. Nothing happened._

He stood and walked towards the door; checking twice if it was really locked and then moved towards the wardrobe to find clothes for the day. He knew it was going to be a warm day, but he pulled on several layers of shirts, a vest and his jacket on anyway. When he looked at himself in the mirror, he couldn't help but feel disgusted. He pulled a hand through his tousled hair and turned away.

It was still too early to go out. He wouldn't meet his friends for at least another four hours and the speech he was going to give wasn't due till that afternoon. He needed a distraction until then. Something that would allow him to think about anything else. Something that would help him forget about the events in the alleyway and the nightmare he had just woken up from.

He walked over to his desk and sat down. Maybe he could just try to get some work done. He still needed to write that other essay. Even though Enjolras was already far ahead of schedule, he could always find new things to do. At least it would help him to forget about his nightmare for a little while. He could focus on his arguments; his images and his ideals; his desired future for France. It was a distraction most welcome.   
  


* * *

 

A couple streets beyond, Combeferre was lying awake in his bed. His thoughts drifted to the night before. He had hardly gotten any sleep at all; had been really shocked by his friends' behavior. Enjolras always had his emotions under control. He hardly ever opened up to anyone; didn't like to let people in too deep. Of course, he had seen his friend angry before. He had seen him upset, frustrated and even sad sometimes. But never in the quantity of yesterday evening. Never like that. Never in a state of complete panic. Not ever had he seen his friend flinch at a touch; jumping at a compliment; panicking after a genuine, friendly hug.

He couldn't quite lay his finger on it, but something was very wrong and he had to find out what. He had no doubt that Enjolras would have a story ready today; his young friend had probably stayed up all night to think of a believable excuse. He scoffed quietly to himself. It had better be a very convincing story for him to buy it.

He turned around to look at the clock. He frowned when he realized he had been lying awake for nearly two hours now. It was already nine o’clock and Enjolras would definitely be up by now. His friend never slept in; he always woke up at dawn.

 _Would it be wise to drop by right now?_  Enjolras had ignored him yesterday evening. He had left him standing outside his door for nearly two hours. Combeferre knew they had a meeting scheduled at eleven, a few hours before they were heading out for a protest in public. Enjolras didn't like to be disturbed before a meeting. He was always preparing, always working on the last details.

But still. Something told him Enjolras needed his friend, whether he would admit it or not; liked it or not. Combeferre got out of his bed, dressed slowly and decided to pay his friend a little visit. He would just try to get Enjolras out for a coffee or for some breakfast. And then they could both make their way to the meeting together. And maybe - if he played it right - Enjolras would open up to him. Tell him what was on his mind. What made him act the way he acted towards Grantaire.

Yes, he would go. And he grabbed his jacket of the wall and made his way outside.


	4. Chapter 4

Enjolras startled to a loud knock on his door. He turned around in his chair, held his breath and hoped that whoever was there would just leave again if he didn't answer.

"Enjolras?," a gentle voice came from the other side. A voice Enjolras would recognize even if it spoke to him from underwater. "Enjolras, are you there?"

Combeferre. Of course it would be Combeferre. He was worrying and he always knew when something was up. Sometimes Enjolras wondered if the man could look into his mind. He sighed. What should he do now?

He really wasn't looking forward to confront any of his friends right now and especially not Combeferre. Especially not Combeferre alone. The man always seemed to pull every secret away from him, no matter how hard he tried to keep it hidden. He cannot know. No one can know, nothing happened.

There was a knocking again. "Enjolras, if you're there, I was only wondering if you might want to get some coffee before the meeting starts?"

Coffee. He asks me to get some coffee. Yes, this was definitely Combeferre's way of drawing him out of his shell. Enjolras' mind was racing now; he wasn't prepared for this; he didn't want to go with Combeferre. Maybe he could just pretend not to be at home. Maybe then Combeferre would just leave and he would have more time to figure out how he was going to deal with all of this.

Not likely.

"Enjolras, come on, I know you're there. Your landlady told me you hadn't left the building yet. Be a gentleman and just answer me. I'd rather not be standing here looking like a fool again like I did last night."

Enjolras winced. Right. That had been really rude of him; Combeferre was his best friend and had only come after him because he was worried. And Enjolras didn't even have the decency to answer him. How was he going to explain that?

Enjolras let out a heavy sigh and pinched the bridge of his nose. He'd just have to stop being a child and open the door. He hesitated for another few seconds, cleared his throat and then called out: "Just a sec 'Ferre, I'm coming!"

He would just say he had still been asleep.

"Took you long enough,", Combeferre grumbled annoyed when Enjolras unlocked the door, "although you at least opened up this time, so I suppose I should be happy..."

"Sorry mon Ami, I was still asleep; your knocking just woke me up actually," Enjolras said tiredly, faking a yawn.

Combeferre gave him a sceptical look and raised an eyebrow at his blonde friend. "You sure about that?" he asked, gesturing at Enjolras' clothes and the fact that he was already fully dressed.

Enjolras blushed. Damn it, he thought. "Uh, oh well yes, I woke up early this morning and got dressed, but I must have dozed off while I was studying."

"Hmm," was all Combeferre said, not looking convinced in the slightest. "May I come in?"

Enjolras nodded and stepped aside; softly closing the door behind them. Combeferre didn't miss how his friend immediately locked the door again. Enjolras hardly ever locked his door. He frowned, but didn't say anything.

There was an awkward silence, something that rarely happened between the two friends. Combeferre eyed Enjolras carefully. He noticed the dark smudges under his eyes and frowned worriedly as he took in Enjolras' nervous behavior. He kept fumbling with his clothes; bit the inside of his cheek and he did not really seem to know where to put his hands.

"Are you alright?" Combeferre asked tentatively. He hadn't planned on voicing his worries immediately, but he couldn't help himself. The entire situation caused his alarmbells to go off persistently.

Enjolras chuckled. "I'm fine 'Ferre, why would you ask?" He regretted his words right away when he saw Combeferre's look of utter disbelieve.

"Why do I ask?" he exclaimed exasperately, "well, you gave quite the performance yesterday my friend. Not to mention you downright ignored me for two hours afterwards. You've been acting weird ever since you came in late yesterday evening and it's getting weirder by the minute. I assume you must not be okay, for you've been anything but yourself and I demand an explanation. You owe me that much, I think."

Enjolras opened his mouth and then closed it again. He didn't know what to say. You've got to say something Enjolras, get it under control, play it cool. Nothing happened so just suck it up.

"You're right, that was rude of me, I apologize", Enjolras began, "I don't know what came over me yesterday. I guess I was still a little shaken up over what had happened to that woman I told you about and I was irritated and lost in my own thoughts and that cheerful mood you guys were all in somehow frustrated me a lot and I guess it just brought on a very strong reaction when Grantaire embraced me so suddenly."

He looked at his friend and Combeferre stared back at him; lips pursed and clearly doubting every word Enjolras said. "I do not think that explanation suffices that panicked reaction of yours and certainly not why you left me standing outside."

Enjolras got frustrated. He never doubts what I tell him. Why won't he believe me now? Because you're lying to him, that's why. He knows when you lie. But he cannot know the truth. He can't find out.

"I don't care if you don't think it suffices. I'm telling you the truth and I apologize. I already admit it was very rude of me, but like I said, I was annoyed and I really didn't feel like seeing or talking to anyone anymore," Enjolras said, now slightly irritated himself.

"And if you think I am not being honest then please, suit yourself, keep worrying about something that isn't there. But I am done having this conversation. I have a speech to prepare," he snapped, voice raising when he spat out the last words.

But Combeferre was not impressed and he still had that skeptical look on his face. "Hmm," was all he said again.

When Enjolras turned around and walked towards his desk to prepare for the meeting, Combeferre spoke up again.

"What's with all those layers you wear? You know it's like a hundred degrees out, right?"

Enjolras didn't look at him. He only sighed and muttered. "I'm just a bit cold 'Ferre, maybe I'm coming down with something, I don't know, but stop worrying, I am fine."

They were both quiet for a bit. Enjolras pretended to work on his speech, but inside his mind was praying for Combeferre to just let it be. Leave it alone, all is fine. Nothing happened, nothing happened, he told himself again, fighting the images of last night away.

He hadn't heard Combeferre approaching him and when he felt a hand on his shoulder he flinched violently, cursing himself again for not being in control of his own reactions. Damn it Enjolras, you are ruining everything!

"That right there", Combeferre started quietly; kindly as he gave Enjolras' shoulder a gentle squeeze, "is why I don't believe you are telling me the truth. What happened last night?"

"Nothing happened. I told you that already. Please just drop it 'Ferre." He hated the slightly pleading tone in his voice.

"D-did someone touch you?" Combeferre asked quietly.

The question caused Enjolras to react a lot more violently than he wanted to.

"What the hell are you suggesting 'Ferre?" He snapped and he gave his friend a furious glare. "For the love of God, what do you want from me? I told you what happened! Nothing happened! Why do you always have to look for more? Nothing happened Combeferre, I am fine! And if you keep assuming things and making presumptions that make no sense whatsoever, I wish you would just leave already! I'm done with this!"

Enjolras was slightly panting now, his heart hammering in his chest. He realized this whole outburst would probably only confirm Combeferre's suspicions. How can he know? He cannot know! Nothing happened. "Nothing happened," he repeated through gritted teeth. And with that he grabbed his coat and stormed out of the room, leaving a shocked and very concerned Combeferre behind.

Enjolras walked down the street towards Café Musain, where the meeting would start soon. He was shaking all over and he fought against the angry tears that threatened to make their way down his cheeks.

You're so, so stupid, he thought. You can't do anything right! Now Combeferre is never going to believe you. You should've just laughed his question away or something.

Entering the Café, he was met with a group of Amis who had apparently arrived early. Courfeyrac, Joly and Jehan looked up at him, shared a look and then greeted him carefully as if they were afraid of another outburst like the one he had yesterday. Grantaire sat in his regular corner; he probably hadn't left at all.

"Goodmorning mes Amis," Enjolras started. He had to do this right. Give them the same explanation he had given Combeferre - he couldn't change his story now - and just bring it with more conviction. And then he would apologize to Grantaire.

"I would like to explain my behavior of last night. I understand I have left you all in kind of a shock?" He started his story. By the time he had told them, they looked less sceptical than Combeferre had, but they didn't seem as convinced as he would have wanted them.

"Are you sure you are okay now Enj? You still look a little shaken to me", Courfeyrac stated, eyeing his clothing for a minute but deciding not to comment on them, for which Enjolras was grateful.

"I'm sure Courf. Honestly, you all shouldn't worry, I promise I'm fine. Nothing is wrong."

He then approached Grantaire, who was eyeing him warily.

"Going to shove me again Apollo?" he asked. "You don't have to, I won't impose my love on you anymore" he added mockingly.

The words still made Enjolras shiver, however. That was exactly what those other men had done to him, with their eyes, their hands, their mouths. Snap out of it Enjolras.

"No 'Taire," he said quietly, "I came to tell you that I was being unfair to you yesterday. I had no right to act like that and I'm sorry. It didn't have anything to do with you, I promise."

Grantaire looked at him for a minute. Confused. Then something lit up in his eyes and he grinned. "It is quite alright, Enjolras, you are forgiven."

Enjolras nodded, looked at the bottle in Grantaire's hand and sighed disapprovingly. "You're already drinking?"

"You made me sad. I had to", Grantaire chuckled drunkily. Though it was the truth.

Enjolras only shook his head and then walked over to his friends to discuss the plans of the day.

By the time the meeting started, everyone was hanging onto Enjolras' words. Everyone was focused on the demonstration of today and the tasks at hand. Everyone except Combeferre, who had been eyeing Enjolras with concern  the entire meeting and it made the blonde feel very uncomfortable.

When everyone made their way outside to do Enjolras' bidding and to bring the people together for Enjolras' and Courfeyracs speech that afternoon, Combeferre made other plans. He grabbed Courfeyrac by the arm when his friend went to make his way out.

"What's the matter 'Ferre? We need to go out! Today's an important day."

Combeferre didn't listen. "Courf, do you remember the name of that man who was with Enjolras last night when he arrived at the café? You saw them approach right?"

Courfeyrac thought for a minute. "Ah, yes! I believe his name was Fauchelevent. Why do you ask?"

"No reason", he said quickly. "Just curious. Now lets go." Courfeyrac chuckled and agreed. He ran out of the café shouting "vive la France!"

Combeferre went outside as well, only he had different plans. He was going to look for someone.


	5. Chapter 5

Combeferre didn't have to search for long. Apparently Mr. Fauchelevent was a well-known gentlemen in Paris who was always willing to help the poor and needy. There were more than a dozen people spilling wonderful stories about him before they pointed him in the right direction. As soon as he got the address Combeferre started to prepare what he was going to say to the man. He was sure something bad had happened to Enjolras that night when Courfeyrac caught Fauchelevent walk him back to the café, but he didn't want to put too much pressure on the kind sir. He might not have had anything to do with it. And Combeferre didn't want to place the man in any hard position  
  
When he arrived at Rue Plumet, he took a deep breath and hesitantly knocked on the door. He was greeted by a tall, kindlooking man, although Combeferre was certain he could be quite intimidating if he wanted to be. This was definitely not a man you wanted to have against you.

"Yes?" Fauchelevent asked, while he looked around a bit nervously as if he feared there were more people around. As if he suspected to be spied upon. It wasn't everyday that a stranger came to visit him at his own house.

Combeferre stared at him for a second and then cleared his throat. "Good day monsieur. My name is Combeferre and I'm terribly sorry to bother you on this day at your home, but I heard you were the good man who guided my friend, Enjolras, back to the café last night and I was wondering if I might ask you a few things." Combeferre gave the man a pleading look; hoping not to be sent away. He really needed answers and he was desperate to get them.  
  
Luckily, Fauchelevent seemed to immediately remember who Combeferre was referring to; he smiled sadly and opened the door further to let Combeferre in. "Make yourself comfortable, my boy," Fauchelevent said kindly and he motioned towards several chairs and sofas in the living room. "Can I get you something to drink? I was just about to make some tea for myself."  
  
Combeferre sat down in one of the chairs and nodded thankfully. "That would be nice, monsieur."  
  
Fauchelevent smiled and turned around to make his way towards the kitchen. Combeferre took a deep breath and looked around the livingroom, taking in the massive amount of books and he felt that familiar sparkle of excitement. He loved books. He absolutely adored them. And he couldn't help it when the different bookcases seemed to draw him towards them. It was like they were calling at him and waving him over. That's why, when Fauchelevent returned, he found the young man in front of one of his bookcases, tracing the various bookbindings with his fingers. The older man smiled. "Seeing something you like?" he asked softly.  
  
Combeferre jumped and turned around quickly, putting back the book he had opened. "I was admiring your collection, monsieur, it certainly is impressive."  
  
Fauchelevent smiled again and motioned towards the tea he had brought. "Please sit down, monsieur Combeferre. You look distressed and obviously intend to speak with me. What is it you wanted to ask?"  
  
Combeferre walked back to the chair he was sitting on and sighed. "I am just worried. Uh... Enjolras is my best friend. I've known him since our childhood and we share an appartment. And I'm sure that I know him through and through. Maybe I even know him better than he knows himself. And ever since Enjolras has gotten back to the café yesterday evening, he has been acting different. Very different. He is being nervous, jumpy and angry all at the same time; he flinches when someone touches him and yesterday he completely panicked when one of our friends tried to embrace him. Of course I asked him about it myself but he just came up with this story that really doesn't fit the situation at all and he got really angry when I made a presumption myself. And he keeps telling me that all is fine and that I have nothing to worry about, but I am certain that he is hiding something from me and it concerns me deeply. I thought and hoped that you might be able to help me figure it out, because he is my best friend and he is scaring me..." Combeferre looked up at Fauchelevent, who was watching him with a sad and understanding look.

He nodded when Combeferre finished talking and then asked: "What exactly did your friend tell you that happened?" Combeferre let out a shaky breath and repeated the story Enjolras had told them all earlier about the woman who was assaulted by some men and how he had stepped in to help and how Fauchelevent had joined him in the fight a little later on.  
  
"It's not true is it?" Combeferre asked dejectedly.  
  
Fauchelevent sighed and shook his head. "Not entirely no, although some aspects are... I am not entirely certain if it is my place to tell, but I can see how worried you are and I do think you deserve to know the truth and that you only want to help him." He leaned forward and looked Combeferre straight in the eyes while he placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. "If you replace the woman with your friend, does the story fit his behaviour more?"  
  
Combeferre swallowed thickly and cast his eyes down. He was right. He knew it. His heart seemed to skip several beats before hammering so loudly he was afraid it might actually jump out of his chest.

Enjolras, in the mean time, was standing upon a few crates alongside Courfeyrac. Both were passionately speaking to the people gathered around them while the Amis handed out their pamphlets. Overall it was a peaceful gathernig and Enjolras finally felt more like himself again since. This was were he felt confident and secure. This was what he was good at and what he was supposed to do.  
  
"Look around you my friends! Look around and see! People are dying every day. By starvation, illness, cold or just because they had to work themselves to the grave. We need to do something! We _cán_ do something! Join us and fight for your right to be free; to be treated equally! What right does one who was born more luckily have to determine the fate of others. What right does a rich man, who does nothing more than sit around and command others, have over people who work fourteen hours a day and still don't have enough money to feed their little ones. When we die, we are all equal. Why should it be any different when we live?"  
  
People were cheering him on and Enjolras felt himself relax for the first time since the events of last night. He was completely in his element and all his listeners seemed to be fully engrossed in what he had to say.  
But then it all went to hell. Apart from all the cheering and smiling faces, there was one man who was determined to break Enjolras' passionate flow of speech. One man for whom, on any other day, it wouldn't be this easy to silence the young blond. But today it was. And Enjolras found himself wishing he had never climbed upon the crates. He wished he was at home. Safe and hidden.  
  
"And what is a pretty boy such as yourself going to do about it? Will you be using your angelic face to convince the king things need to change?"  
  
Enjolras froze. _Pretty boy. Pretty boy._ The words echoed in his head and he felt all the blood drain from his face. He searched frantically for the face of the man who had spoken. He was terrified to find either Louis or Antoine, but he saw neither. He lost complete control over his mind and once again flashed back to that dark alleyway. _Pretty boy. Pretty boy._  
  
"Enjolras!"  
  
The calling of his name brought him back to the present. He turned around to face Courfeyrac, who was eyeing him worriedly. "What's wrong? Are you hurt? You completely blacked out on me." The crowd had fallen silent as well and Enjolras was breathing erratically.  
  
"I can't do this Courf", he whispered brokenly. "Please, just finish. I have to go. I... I-I have to go." He ignored Courfeyracs attempts of getting him back and waved away the Amis who wanted to follow him. They were all worried for their friend, Enjolras knew that, but he couldn't handle them right now.. "Please mes Amis, you need to stay here and I need to be alone for a while. Leave me be. I'll be at the Café. Just finish what we came here to do and I'll see you all later today."  
  
His friends reluctantly did what he asked them. There was only one who would not listen. One who would never listen or follow Enjolras' instructions. Grantaire. He didn't care much for the speech Courfeyrac was now giving. He only cared for Enjolras and if his leader left, than so would he. They didn't speak at all during their walk back to the café, but Enjolras was grateful and felt strangely more safe knowing Grantaire was right behind him.  
  
 _Maybe I should tell them. This certainly can't go on any longer. Maybe I can't do this all by myself._

* * *

Combeferre's heart broke into more and more pieces after each word Fauchelevent said about the events of last night. The man told him about how he got there just in time. How scared Enjolras had been. How the two men got away.  
  
"I'm not sure how much they did do to him though. You would have to ask him that. I only know that he wasn't violated like that, though that certainly was their intention."  
  
Combeferre nodded silently. His heart ached for his friend. Everything certainly made sense now. He wanted nothing more than to speak with Enjolras, but he knew he had to be careful about this. He needed to let his friend now he was there for him if he wanted to talk, but he knew he shouldn't put too much pressure on him.  
  
He cleared his throat. "Thank you monsieur, for telling me."  
  
"You're very welcome. I wanted to say something yesterday to that other boy, but it did not seem my place back then."  
  
Combeferre nodded. He understood.  
  
"I should go. Enjolras is giving a speech this afternoon and, well, I should just go. Thank you again for your generosity."  
  
Fauchelevent let the boy out. He felt sorry for causing Combeferre such distress. But at least now he was hopefully able to help his friend. "Don't be a stranger Combeferre," he said kindly as he pressed his hand in goodbye. "You can always borrow a book."  
  
Combeferre smiled, thanked him again and left the house, stumbling over his own feet in his haste to get back to his blond friend.


End file.
